


Steganography

by CloudedAbandon



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Getting Together, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6806101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudedAbandon/pseuds/CloudedAbandon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they met, Matthew shot Ludwig. Now Matthew watches his dogs when Ludwig has to leave town for work. Ludwig still gets shot, sometimes.</p><p>(Poorly proofread, sort of Genghis Khan AU, sort of Mission Impossible AU where Ludwig works for the independent espionage agency and Matthew works for the "not as bad as some" bad guys. Also, they're neighbors.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steganography

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr.

Ludwig came to slowly, mouth dry and face greasy. He felt more than a little unclean, still in his tuxedo and sweat pooling between his back and the metal table under him.

At least Matthew was generous enough to undo his collar so it’s no longer chafing. Feliciano, in his gentle way, had told him he’d get used to it. Of course, that was five years ago and now Feliciano just nodded and shrugged when Lovino told him to “get the fuck over it.”

“Beat me just by a few seconds, Ludwig,” Ludwig tilted his head just so he could see Matthew sidle up next to the table with a bottle of water and a straw. Ludwig tried not to look too relieved. “I think you’re building up a tolerance.”

Matthew took a seat on the edge of the table, leg bent at the knee so he could twist and see Ludwig better, his hip warm against Ludwig’s thigh.

“Is that why I was shot three times?” Ludwig asked dryly. Literally. His voice rasped; his tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

Matthew undid the lid on the water bottle and stuck in the straw (bendy straw) and then managed to tilt it in such a way that, if Ludwig brought his face a little closer, he could sip from it.

“No, that was a mistake. I told them it would take you a few seconds, even with two darts, but one of the new recruits panicked. He thought people get knocked out immediately, like in the movies.” Matthew gave Ludwig an easy smile and a little shrug. “We all make mistakes, especially on first days. I’m still impressed that you’re up, though. I thought I’d have to wait.”

Patiently, Matthew let Ludwig drink half of the bottle of water and then placed it by Ludwig’s head. He exhaled softly and gave Ludwig a faint smile.

“I’m really sorry. You didn’t actually get in our way this time. Arthur’s still upset you snatched that flash drive from under his nose in Graz.” Ludwig snorted. Matthew gave him another small, helpless what can you do? smile. His heart thumped. “He just didn’t want you to enjoy your first night off in a month. Good job on Istanbul, by the way. And thanks for the baklava.”

“Thanks for watching my dogs,” Ludwig said, because even though Matthew wasn’t with IMF, he always seemed to be on Ludwig’s side. “It was short notice and their sitter was sick.”

“What are neighbors for? And, anyways, I think Aster finally likes me. He responds when I call him now.”

–

Ludwig joined IMF expecting to be on desk duty until he could collect his pension. He wanted desk duty. He had been happy at his desk. He compiled immaculate dossiers—color-coded by section and with indexes. Some of them were even thick enough to stop bullets, as Ludwig found out on his first field assignment.

“Oh,” Matthew had breathed out, that first time. He had lowered his gun (Smith and Wesson, MP, flashed across Ludwig’s mind as he stared up from the ground at the blond. The dossier was still in his hands, at least. And mostly intact. 9mm.), and then said, softly, “Damn it, Matthew. You needed that in one piece.”

Ludwig had shot to his feet and darted out of the alley, sidestepping a teenage couple. Behind him, he could hear Matthew swear. He could hear swearing as Matthew tore out of the alley behind Ludwig.

But Ludwig graduated at the top of his class. He could complete the entire obstacle course endurance test twice before time was called. He was in peak physical condition, and he had a mission to complete.

He found Matthew in his hotel room, sprawled on his bed.

Ludwig still didn’t understand why he was still given field assignments after that wreck of a mission. After he met Matthew.

–

“I gave up when you took a right towards the Marais. I’m a thief, not a secret agent. I don’t even like guns.” Matthew lazily waved his left arm to punctuate his last sentence.

“Why are you in my room?” Ludwig took a step forward and then another one. The other man was boneless on his bed, feet hanging off the bed. The bed was mostly untouched under him. He didn’t look like he wanted to move any time soon.

“I was going to intimidate you, but now I want to go back to mine and sleep.” Matthew sighed and lolled his head to look at Ludwig with a frown. “First day?”

“No.”

“First mission.” Matthew’s lips quirked into a smile and pushed up onto his elbows. “So that’s why they sent me. They didn’t think even I could screw up against a new agent.”

“But you did.”

At that, Matthew scowled. “I saw you enter this very room last night.”

“How—“

“Mostly by luck. I always stay in this hotel when I visit Paris and you couldn’t stand out harder if you tried. Where’s your handler?”

“It was supposed to be a simple pass-off—“

“Don’t tell me that!” Matthew jerked to his feet. “IMF really has gone downhill since Arthur left. He’d be furious. You should always have a handler, especially on simple pass-off. Things always go wrong on pass-offs! What did they teach you in orientation? Did you even have an orientation?”

Ludwig stared at him. Matthew stared back.

Neither said anything.

–

So, Ludwig’s wreck of a first mission got the then chief of IMF fired. Someone new was hired, supposedly. No one had seen them, but Lovino, the new chief’s secretary, insisted (repeatedly, vehemently, and loudly) that they existed and was signing their paychecks, so shut the fuck up and get back to work or so help me god—

Anyway. When the dust cleared, Ludwig found himself partnered with Alfred.

“Damn Ludwig,” Alfred whistled low and lingering, meeting Ludwig in the lobby. “Arthur’s still bitter about Graz, huh?”

Ludwig shrugged, rolled his shoulders again for good measure, and didn’t respond. Alfred just shook his head and passed over the extra cup of coffee he had in hand to Ludwig. “Matt suggested me getting eyes on you 24/7.”

“Is Arthur planning on ruining all of my rest days?” Ludwig frowned, fingertips drumming against the paper cup. “That’s incredibly petty, even for him.”

“He really doesn’t like you.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do. Like, he hates you, Ludwig. A lot.” Alfred mouthed a lot again just incase Ludwig didn’t fully understand. “I’m gonna throw something together in case this happens again. You should get some rest.”

“I should check in with—“

“I’m sure Lovino would be more than happy to tell you that you look like shit later. Go get some rest.”

–

“Hi Ludwig.”

Ludwig gave Matthew a faint smile before he unlocked the door to his flat. He could already hear his dogs crowding the other side.

“Be careful,” Ludwig warned, a little softer than teasing. “Aster finally likes you.”

Matthew’s laughter lingered even after the blond disappeared down the hallway.

–

Ludwig was so good at putting together dossiers that that became his single job.

“Find out everything,” Lovino would say, with enough disdain to prove, without a doubt, that he wanted to be anywhere but there in a room with Ludwig, “everything. Understood?”

Each time Ludwig would nod and take the slip of paper from Lovino’s desk. He would read the words (or word) on it and then he would drop it into a bronze slot in the exposed brick of Lovino’s office where it would flutter into the incinerator.

And then Ludwig would get to work.

He wouldn’t always have to leave the office, but if Ludwig’s work was impressive when he was confined to a desk, then it was nonpareil once he was on location.

He had been happy at his desk. He had wanted desk duty.

“You’re wasted on desk duty,” Gilbert reminded him, calling him from an untraceable number because he had the uncanny ability to know when Ludwig needed to be convinced to do the exact opposite of what he wanted to do (“I am your big brother, Ludwig. It is my duty.”), “Besides, all the fun is in the field.”

“I nearly died.”

Gilbert made a loud dismissive noise and then Ludwig swear he could hear the thud of something heavy accompanied by the slosh of liquid. Suddenly, there was a sudden peal of laughter too close to Ludwig’s ear and it didn’t sound like his brother.

“Are you at a bar drinking? Gilbert, what—“

“Already know too much, bro. Love you. Call you in March. Remember to destroy your phone.”

–

It was a war of information. Battles fought in words and pictures. It was a matter of parsing through the redundant, through the filler words, until the white noise of language and image narrowed down to what was really important.

It was about being thorough and quick and—

(“Anal retentive,” Feliciano supplied. He was quick to add, with his hands thrown up in front of Ludwig’s glower, “I think it’s charming! You know, I have a cousin who’s anal retentive.”

Ludwig sighed.)

Anyway. Ludwig’s job was to collect information so the actual agents could do their job. He was given a short amount of time to find out everything (everything) and then pass that information off to the lead agent.

Alfred would supervise from the safety of IMF’s headquarters and Ludwig would get to come home on the last flight with Alfred chatting in his ear about the latest office gossip. Sometimes Feliciano would crash in and ask if Ludwig had eaten already or if he wanted some rigatoni for the road.

Sometimes, like in Paris that first time, the mission would not go exactly according to plan. Ludwig’s only warning would be Matthew sitting outside a café or Matthew waving from the steps of a monument or, in one memorable instance, Matthew grabbing him by the wrist and pulling Ludwig after him as he dove into a canal.

This time it was Matthew sidling up to him in front of Picasso’s Guernica.

“I’d rather not wake up on an autopsy table tomorrow. Again,” Ludwig murmured, slowly pulling Matthew to him with an arm around his waist. He couldn’t feel Matthew’s holster. He must be taking a rest day. “Is Arthur targeting me again?”

(“Is Matt there now? Tell him I say hi!”)

Ludwig ignored Alfred’s voice and started to step away, but Matthew held him firm. When he looked at him, Matthew gave him a sweet, shy smile that, even now, sent Ludwig’s heart racing.

“No, he’s too busy planning an assassination.”

“Don’t joke.”

“Don’t worry; it’s a warlord.”

“Matthew…”

“He’s doing it pro bono.”

Ludwig sighed and gazed upwards (“is he joking about stealing something?”), away from Matthew’s smile and at the bright lights that were somehow less blinding than the man pulling him to the next room.

Matthew stayed quiet, tucked against Ludwig’s side and content, letting an easy, indolent smile settle on his face. He probably knew Alfred was brainstorming what he could be doing in Madrid. Ludwig just walked along.

Catching a glimpse of the two of them in the stretch of windows overlooking the square, Ludwig knew they looked like an old couple: comfortable and steady and completely unhurried by tourists and tour groups.

After a moment, Ludwig asked, “You aren’t memorizing the layout of the museum to steal something later, are you?”

(“Tell him to steal me a postcard if he really has to steal something. Or a magnet.”)

“No.”

Ludwig waited.

“It’s my rest day, Ludwig.” Matthew added. “I’m enjoying Madrid.”

“Did you already steal something?”

(“Look, I could hack into the closest security camera or you could reward my trust in you, Ludwig, by telling me what Matthew is doing or if he already got me a souvenir.”)

“You know I did.” At that, Ludwig pulled away and Matthew looked almost apologetic. “But it was at another museum and it was in storage.”

(“…He didn’t get me a souvenir. Son of a bitch.”)

“Matthew…”

(“Hey let me know who wins this round, Ludwig.”)

Matthew’s face darkened and he sat down at the very end of a bench in the center of the room. Ludwig sat next to him.

On the other side of Ludwig was a cluster of schoolchildren listening avidly to their museum guide.

“Says the guy who wined and dined the granddaughter of the acquisitions director just to find out how often the museum makes a successful bid on ancient Indus Valley statuettes.” Matthew hissed, tugging his jacket tighter around himself. “The very natures of our jobs make them morally questionable. Just because you don’t know the consequences of the work you do, doesn’t mean those consequences don’t exist. And if you really want to fight about it, again, Ludwig, I’m just a thief. The one time I tried to be more, I failed. If I hadn’t failed, you wouldn’t be here.”

–

“So you ran into Matt on a mission and nothing went totally, horribly wrong? Wow.” Alfred grinned, arms folded behind his head as he leaned back against his worktable. His hair was held out of his face by his glasses and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a few days. But Alfred’s eyes were alert and teasing and Ludwig could already feel a headache come on.

“Just tell me what you’ve invented now.”

“Aw, come on, buddy. You’re the one who brought out the disapproving voice. Matty could join IMF and lead a reckless, short life—or, he could be his own boss and lead a reckless, short life with as many vacation days as he wants. You know he only jokes about working for Arthur. He’s freelance.”

“I just worry about him.”

Ludwig purposely ignored Alfred’s confused, slightly horrified expression.

“We’re friends, Alfred. I worry about you, too. And Feliciano and Kiku.”

Alfred’s expression didn’t soften. But it did turn more pitying.

“And when was the last time you tried to convince Kiku to stop going on undercover missions?”

Ludwig avoided Alfred’s gaze. But, firmly, he said, “I will as soon as he gets back.”

Kiku was deep undercover, just like Gilbert. Except maybe Kiku was actually working. Ludwig had a feeling Gilbert was on a holiday that was presented as a dangerous mission.

Gilbert would infiltrate any number of bars and pubs and clubs and places of social drinking to ensure the safety of society.

(“It is my duty, Ludwig. My duty.”)

“If Kiku or Gilbert or—if any of us get caught, all it takes is a few phone calls and we are out with clean records. If Matthew gets caught…”

“He’s in jail.” Alfred finished, grimly. He tapped a screwdriver against the table and gave Ludwig an even look. “That’s what you think. But Arthur wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Arthur is planning an assassination—“

“Arthur’s an asshole, no doubt. He’s king of the douches. But,” And here, Alfred looked pained, “he raised me and Matthew. He adopted us, and we were just these two kids who happened to be the kids of a girl he once dated in school. He didn’t even sleep with her. We weren’t even his. But he took us in.”

Alfred’s grin was an anemic thing similar to the one Matthew gave him when Ludwig suggested he work for IMF the first time. He gestured at his office, really a cave in the lowest part of the building, brimming with tech from every decade and humming with all the hours and sweat and dedication Alfred gave to it.

“We grew up in this place. We know every corner and vent of this building.” Alfred sighed. “We know why Arthur left. Matt understands. Arthur wouldn’t leave him to rot in a prison cell.”

Brighter, he added, “Me, on the other hand? Definitely. But not Matty.”

–

After Madrid, Ludwig went to Lisbon. He had some egg tarts wrapped up in his satchel and he hoped they might be enough to get Matthew to talk to him again. After Madrid, but before Lisbon, Ludwig had passed Matthew twice in their building’s lobby and in the stretch of hallway on their floor.

But Matthew had barely glanced at him. He only had smiles for Ludwig’s dogs.

Coming up the sidewalk, Ludwig heard three familiar barks and looked up from his phone.

Aster, Berlitz, and Blackie all came bounding toward him, panting and vying to be the first for a head scratch. Ludwig just sunk to the ground and opened his arms for all three of them.

“I could still take them to the park, but I think they’d rather have you.”

Ludwig looked up. Matthew was smiling at him. And Ludwig had to return it. He didn’t think he could do anything else.

“You look awful, Ludwig. I thought Lisbon was just a simple pass-off.”

Ludwig related the entire trip, from the airport to being chased through the entire metro system and then hiding out in a basilica until dawn.

“And the lead never showed.” Ludwig muttered, stretching out on the bench as the dogs split up to sniff each quarter of the park. Once more, just in case. “This has never happened before.”

Matthew was quiet, half-eaten tart in hand. He swallowed hard.

“You remember that assassination I mentioned? The warlord?” At Ludwig’s nod, Matthew continued, “He was found dead two days too early.”


End file.
